Return to Heartache
by Queenrider3
Summary: He returned to New Gotham in search of redemption what he found and discovered was a whole lot more. AN: FF.net messed on me but I've fixed everything so it should work fine now
1. Default Chapter

  
  

Go Canada.   
www.sympatico.ca 

Return to Heartache 

Boredom + Birds of Prey = Crazy fanfic. LOL   
Blake: she should *really* cut back on the caffeine   
::fwaps him upside the head:: you *know* I can't have caffeine anymore ::whimper::   
  
Enjoy Minna-san!   
  


~*~Queenrider and her muses~*~ 

  
  
  
  
  
The sky overhead was cloudy with a few brief and scattering of light where the sunshine managed to break through the clouds. The clouds themselves were a pale silver gray in color, the same color as the sleek Mercedes on the ground below.   
  
  
The traffic was sparse and so the cars were flying with no respect for the speed limits posted on the sides of the highway. The traffic cops hanging on the side let them go; they would not interfere unless something happened for them to do so.   
  
  
The man in the car wasn't go as fast as the others. He was torn between the desire to get to the City as fast as possible and drag his returning on as long as he could. With a sigh that said it would be no use he floored the accelerator and the car shot forward easily passing the cars in front of him.   
  
  
For several minutes he continued this way the car a blur of silver. A wild thing that gobbled up the miles. There was a freedom in speed. In going as fast as you possibly could teetering on the edge of destruction. It was addictive. Far more addictive than any other drug known to man.   
  
  
The feeling of going fast.   
  
That was what kept jockeys and race car drivers who had been critically injured in accidents coming back again and again. The feeling of the wind, the sound of it, whistling by your ears like a music that only you could understand.   
  
  
He was forced to slow down the car as the traffic became denser and more packed no longer the few cars that it had been before. A sign overhead read: You are now entering the city limits.   
  
  
The man took a deep shaky breath and felt his stomach tighten in apprehension. He could no longer turn back now. He had to go through with this. He slowed the silver Mercedes down to an almost crawl as the traffic became more crowded.   
  
  
Minutes upon minutes later there was another sign overhead. This time it said: Welcome to New Gotham.   
  
The traffic began to break up now becoming less packed as the drivers found the roads and streets that would lead them to their destinations. Inside the car the man turned right at Fallow Street and followed it to the end of the block before turning left and then right once more. This time he stopped the car fully in front of a tall rambling red brick apartment.   
  
  
He turned off the car and the soothing rumble of the engine disappeared and was replaced with silence. He pulled the key out of the ignition and pocketed it before getting out of the car and letting it slam behind him.   
  
  
He ran a hand through his thick hair and approached the apartment.   
  
  
  


~~~ 

  
  
Barbara was as usual seated in front of a computer. Helena was on sweeps, Dinah was at the library doing homework and so she was alone. The comforting clack, clack of the keyboard rang through the empty house.   
  
  
With a muffled yawn Barbara exited the program she had been working on and shut down the computer. She directed the wheelchair into the kitchen and proceeded to make a cup of coffee. She had ordered pizza fifteen minutes ago knowing that Helena would be hungry when she came back from sweeps.   
  
  
**When is she not hungry?** Barbara thought wryly as she came out of the kitchen and into the living room. The girl was a human garbage disposal. She slid a CD into the radio and soft rock music started to play.   
  
  
Humming softly under her breath Barbara began to rearrange the stack of CDs as usual they were out of order. One of the girls, most presumably Helena had been sorting through her music and thus that was why they were a mess.   
  
  
Suddenly the doorbell rang intruding on Barbara's thoughts. "Well, that was quick." She murmured. She grabbed a few bills from the counter and wheeled over to the door. "You guys are fast..." She started to say. Her words were cut off as she saw who was standing in front of her.   
  
  


~~~~ 

  
  
Thanks for reading ^.~ Reviews, comments and criticism are welcome - Queenrider   
  



	2. Return to Heartache 2

  
  

Go Canada.   
www.sympatico.ca 

Return to Heartache 2Hey Minna-san! Thanks for the reviews :: bounces:: keep them coming and I'll do likewise with the chapters ^. ~   
Blake: *.* Look at all the pretty reviews   
Queenrider: ::grin::   
  
  
  


~~~ 

  
  
  
  
Barbara's breath seemed to catch in her throat and she forgot to breath for a moment.   
  
It was Bruce.  
  
Bruce Wayne.   
  
Barbara blinked several times to make sure she knew that she wasn't dreaming her breath came back to her but the sense of surprise didn't go awayl. "Bruce?" She asked tentatively; hesitantly.   
  
"Hi Barbara." He replied his voice soft.   
  
It was true! It was him! He was here! He was back! Barbara moved the wheelchair back a bit to give him room to enter. "Come in." Her voice shook with emotions she couldn't classify.   
  
"Thank you." He managed a smile even though everything felt so awkward.   
  
"Would you like something to drink? I just made coffee; but I have water, coke, tea..." Her voice trailed off. She was still too much in shock to function properly.   
  
"Coffee would be fine."   
  
"Sure. Sure. I'll go get it. Just sit down okay?" She said the last words in a way that made him sure that he would not be able to leave the apartment until she was finished questioning him.   
  
Barbara disappeared into the kitchen and reappeared a moment later a tray with two mugs of coffee balanced carefully on her lap. It was then she got her first real look at Bruce. His black hair was still thick and wavy but was streaked with gray. His relatively young face was lined heavily. The lines and gray in his hair Barbara suspected had more to do with sorrow and loss than true aging.   
  
He had kept himself fit; his body still lithe and muscular. He wore a slate gray Armani suit with a cream shirt and navy tie. A pair of brown boots that looked as if they had just been polished were on his feet. "Here you go." She offered him one of the mugs. "Two sugars and extra cream right?" She was somewhat gratified to notice he looked fully at her not avoiding the wheelchair she was encased in.   
  
"Right." The smile he had on his face seemed to be more like a grimace. He took the proffered mug and sipped it.   
  
Barbara sipped her own and regarded him for several moments not sure where to start.   
  
"I'm sorry." Bruce initiated the conversation before she could even finish thinking about what to say.  
  
"Sorry for what?" She asked him.  
  
"Sorry, because I didn't kill him that first time. And that if I had done so you would be walking and Selena would be alive now." The pain in his eyes was fresh as he relived the memories. Time hadn't dulled them the slightest bit.   
  
"It wasn't your fault."   
  
"Yes, it was! I could have done something. I _should_ have done something." He sighed heavily and closed his eyes.   
  
How like Helena he was. Barbara thought. Or rather how like she was like him. Both had that protective instinct that took anything someone did wrong to someone they loved personally. Both she knew would hunt down that person and make him pay for wronging.   
  
She had seen both of them do such.   
  
"No, it wasn't your fault Bruce. None of it was."   
  
Bruce shook his head sharply in an almost painful looking jerk. "How could you ever forgive me? First, because of what I didn't do; and you lose the use of your legs and then months later I run away from Gotham... New Gotham. And Selena dies because of me."   
  
"There's nothing to forgive because I've already forgiven you." She said softly.   
  
"Have you?" He looked at her beseechingly. He had changed so much since she had last seen him. He was rawer, pained. Hurt. Where had the flint hard, crime fighter who hid his emotions as easily as he did his face behind the mask he wore? The mask he had worn both literally and figuratively was gone. And what was behind that mask Barbara wasn't even sure that she liked what she saw now. She had been so used to the Bruce she knew seven years ago that seeing him now as he was, was a slap in the face.   
  
**People change.** She thought sadly. She lowered her gaze to the mug of coffee she clasped in her hands and absentmindedly tapped her index finger against the side of the mug.   
  
Barbara took her finger tapping hand away from the mug and grabbed one of his hands with her own and gave it a reassuring squeeze. "Yes," She said in a definite tone of voice.   
  
Some of the lines on Bruce's face lifted slightly.   
  
"So where you been since you left?" She asked as gently as she knew how to.   
  
"All over, New York, Tokyo, Berlin,hong Kong, London. Trying to expand Wayne Enterprises; I threw myself into my company after what happened and just quit being Batman."   
  
"I know I heard...you're what the eight richest man in the world now?" Barbara's voice was light trying to lift the heavy mood that permeated the air around them.  
  
"Seventh." Bruce's mouth quirked slightly in what was almost a true smile.   
  
"So what made you decide to come back?" Barbara asked.   
  
She never got her answer. "Barbara I'm home!" Helena's voice rang through the apartment accompanied by the sound of the window being lifted and opened. A split second later she was there standing behind them.  
  
"Who are you?" Both she and Bruce demanded at the same time.   
  
**God, what to say?** Barbara thought. Her mind flashed through the possibilities. She shoved them away and sighed. She might as well tell both of them the truth. She _should_ tell them nothing _but_ the truth. "Helena...this is your father." She never got to finish what she was going to say.   
  
"What!" Helena took a step backward in shock. She turned her ice blue eyes on Bruce and studied him for a moment. His face was pale and he was looking at her puzzedly.   
  
"So you're Batman. So you're my father." She said so lowly it was almost a hiss. The words contained more anger than Barbara had ever heard from her. Abruptly Helena turned around and with one fluid movement was gone from using how she had entered;the window.   
  


~~~ 


	3. Return to Heartache 3

  
  

Go Canada.   
www.sympatico.ca 

Return to Heartache 3 

Yeah I'm going to insert a shameless plug ::dodges rotten tomatoes being thrown::   
  
New Gotham City: a Birds of Prey RPG  
As of yet the only main characters taken are Helena, Alfred and Barbara the rest are open and created orginal characters are welcome. The URL: http://groups.yahoo.com/group/New_Gotham_City   
  


~~~ 

  
  
Helena gently pushed open the window, just enough to allow herself to enter and let herself inside; landing on all fours. Usually she would have got into her apartment using the door but she had left her keys at Barbara's apartment, forgetting them completely after seeing Bruce Wayne (she *refused* to refer to him as her father).   
  
Anyway her window was easy to access from the roof of the building (she lived at the top floor) and she always made sure to leave the window unlocked in case of such happenings.   
  
Sure there was always the chance something *might* get stolen but it wasn't that likely. Helena didn't exactly keep gold bars in her apartment and neither did she own anything that couldn't be easily replaced or that contained much sentimental value (discounting the pictures of her and her mother before her death of course).   
  
She straightened quickly and turned to close the partially open window. As she did so she heard a soft meow coming from the direction behind her. She closed the window and turned her head to look.   
  
A jet black sleek haired cat with sparkling emerald eyes regarded her seriously, a few feet away. The cat sat on its haunches the tip of its tail twitching slightly. It cocked its head to the side and emitted another meow.   
  
"Hey Neko." Helena bent down and scooped the cat up into her arms.   
  
Playfully Neko stretched out a paw and bat at her necklace. Helena smiled and pressed her face against the top of the cats head and relaxed slightly. For several moments she just stood still, cuddling him.   
  
Helena shared her mother's affection for cats. She just simply and utterly could *not* stand dogs. Why someone would want to have a slobbery, barking, yappy animal in their life was beyond her. For almost her entire life they had always been at least one cat living with her and most of them had been black.   
  
She had found her latest cat; Neko a couple weeks back while on patrol for Barbara and taken him home at once. It had taken her several days to decide on what to name him. Helena had completely rejected Blackie and Shadow; the first names that had sprang into her mind on account that they were too overused and cliche. She had finally settled on calling the cat Neko: the Japanese word for cat.   
  
Still holding Neko she brought him into the kitchen and took out a can of cat food from the cabinet.   
  
Neko leapt out of her arms, landing gently on the floor and waited patiently while she opened the can and spooned its contents into his food dish. Helena set in down in front of him and Neko began to eat daintily, his tail swishing contentedly back and forth.   
  
With a final scratch behind his ears Helena went into her bedroom where she took off her Huntress clothes and stowed them neatly away at the back of her closet.   
  
She then changed into a tight red tank top and spandex black shorts.   
  
Neko padded into her room and leapt up onto her dresser. The cat tilted its head and meowed softly it's green eyes on her.   
  
Helena smiled at the cat and gently rubbed his head. "What am I going to do eh? What now Neko?"   
  
Neko gently butted his head against her palm and meowed softly once more. He jumped agilily down from the dresser and walked, tail raised high in the air out of the room.   
  
Helena watched him go and absently tucked an unruly strand of short black hair behind her ear; it promptly fell forward and free of her ear. She stood still and chewed her bottom lip for a moment just thinking. Finally with a sigh and shake of head she walked out of her room following the cat.   
  
Neko was laying on the ground in the middle of the hallwy but got up as soon as he saw her. He rose gracefully to his feet and strutted ahead of her as if he was leading her. Helena grinned at the cat's antics and followed him into the kitchen where she paused for a moment to take a water bottle out of the fridge.   
  
After doing that Helena followed Neko into what she called her "gym room." The title was accurate; the room could have easily been mistaken for a miniature gym. It contained a treadmill, weight lifting equipment and a boxing bag. A stereo CD player was pushed against the wall looking out of place. Helena went to it first, dropping her water bottle on the floor beside t, slipped a CD inside of it and pressed the play button.   
  
Loud rap music speckled liberally with profanity came on and Helena turned it up until she was certain it could be heard throughout the apartment.   
  
That done Helena straightened from her crouched position in front of the CD player and went over to her boxing bag and let loose with her hands and feet. She didn't give a care about technique, or form or even accuracy; she just focused on channeling all the anger and frustration she felt into the boxing bag and out of her system.   
  
As she worked her emotions on the bag a tear rolled out of the corner of her eye. With it came memories:   
  
"Mommy?" Six year old Helena asked her mother. "Can I ask you a question?"   
  
"Sure, sweetie," Selena set a bowl of cooked carrots onto the table to join with the other bowls and plates of rice (the rice was for herself. Rice was one of the few foods Helena wouldn't eat). Pasta (for Helena) and Chicken noodle soup (they both ate that).   
  
Selena stifled a smile as she saw her daughter grimace at the sight of the carrots. Helena may like most other foods even the dreaded broccoli and lima beans that most six year olds would run screaming from the kitchen at the sight of; but she *hated* carrots with a passion.   
  
"What do you want ask me?"   
  
"Why don't I have a Daddy? Aimee and Kara and Jilly do; why don't I?"   
  
Selena thought for a moment wondering how to explain this to her daughter in words a six year could understand. Not that Helena was any ordinary six year old -- she had been taking gymnastics and ballet since she was could walk and just the week before had begged her mother into letting her take Tae Kwon Do lessons because, "It looks fun."   
  
Together Helena and her mother sat down and began to eat. As they ate Selena thought about Helena's question and how to answer it. Finally she deemed she had chosen a response that would correctly answer it.   
  
"You *do* have Daddy..." Selena started choosing her words carefully. "The problem is that we can't be with him. It would be too dangerous for all of us; you, me, you Daddy. Bad guys would try to do bad things to us."   
  
Helena's eyes widened," you mean bad guys like robbers?"   
  
Selena choked back a chuckle, if her daughter only knew that her mother had once been one of the "bad robber guys." "Yes," she said with a nod. "Even worse than bad guys like robbers."   
  
"Oh," Helena fell silent for a moment and idly pushed her carrots around on her plate with her fork. "Mommy? When will I get to meet my Daddy?"   
  
"I don't know sweetheart Selena said truthfully. "I really don't know."   
  


~~~ 

  
  
Helena cut her memory off with a jerk of her head. She was ashamed to see she was crying. Tears rolled down her face and chin and dripped down onto her neck. Angrily she dashed them away with the back of her hand. Had she not told herself that after her mother's murder she wouldn't cry anymore?   
  
Yet here she was doing just that.   
  
Her doorbell suddenly rang sounding even over the rap music that blared from the stereo speakers. Helena wished she could turn the music up more, drown out the sound of the doorbell, but the volume was up to its last and so she simply couldn't do that.   
  
The doorbell rang again. Persistently. Helena punched halfheartedly at the boxing bag wishing that they would go away, for undoubtedly it was Barbara or Bruce (she would *not* call him her father).   
  
Father.   
  
The word sounded so alien to her. Helena wasn't sure she even liked the sound of it. The doorbell rang once more -- a third time. Helena gave the boxing bag another halfhearted hit.   
  
Barbara could be persistent and unyielding when she wanted to be (and from what she had told Helena about her father, she was pretty sure Bruce was too). Helena knew she could (and would) ring the doorbell all day if she wanted to, or until it broke.   
  
With a sigh that admitted defeat Helena shoved the boxing bag away, turned down the rap music a notch and went to go answer the door.   
  



	4. Return to Heartache 4

  
  

Go Canada.   
www.sympatico.ca 

Return to Heartache 4 

Konnichi-wa Minna-san Chapter 4 is up so start reading and start reviewing and if you do as I've said you'll get a nice surprise in the next chapter but I'm not going to tell who its gonna be.   
  
  
  
Bruce rang the doorbell a third time and barely suppressed a frustrated growl.  
  


~~~ 

  
  
Bruce stared at the window the girl called Helena - the girl Barbara had said was his daughter had just left through, his face unreadable. "My daughter?" He echoed Barbara's words.   
  
Barbara nodded and tucked a stray strand of red hair behind an ear. "Yeah; Helena's your daughter."   
  
"Who is her mother?" Bruce asked. There weren't that many women he had been close enough to, to produce a child and he was curious as to who was this girls mother.   
  
"Selena."   
  
Bruce felt like he had just stopped breathing. For a split second her face flashed before his eyes and he shoved it away. "Selena?" He could barely keep his voice from shaking.   
  
"She never told you. She didn't want Helena to get hurt. If people knew that she was Batman's *and* Catwoman's daughter she would have been made a target to be used to get to the both of you."   
  
"So that's why she left New Gotham." Bruce said.   
  
"Pardon?" Barbara asked inquiringly.   
  
"One day Selena was in Gotham... the next she wasn't. She completely disappeared. I didn't hear from her for... months. She didn't come back until several years had passed and never left a contact number or where she was located. She would always just call me up out of the blue with no warning at all and I could never trace the call."   
  
"From what Helena had told me, she and Selena moved around quite a lot. Catwoman herself had many enemies and even without your presence it would have been hard for Selena to keep Helena completely safe."   
  
"She never told me that she had a child. That *we* had a child." Bruce murmured again barely his voice barely audible yet Barbara heard each word clearly.   
  
"She never told Helena either that you were her father or that you were Batman and that she was Catwoman. She was killed in front of Helena's eyes Bruce. It was only as she lay dying that she told Helena who she and you were."   
  
Bruce closed his eyes wearily. It must be his curse. Both he and his daughter - how strange those words sounded - had watched their parents die in front of them.   
  
"What happended after that?" He asked.   
  
"You had left the city; and Helena came to live with me. She was a teenager at the time. I started training her as a crime fighter. She's twenty three now. She's a metahuman - well half metahuman by the way. Runs on Selena's side." Barbara stopped for a moment. "She's very good Bruce. Very good. But she's inexprienced and still untrained and she needs to learn to control her impulses and think things through before she does something."   
  
"Where does she live?" Bruce asked suddenly changing the subject.  
  
"An apartment in the North side of New Gotham. A street called Gawadir Drive."   
  
"Thanks," Bruce rose to his feet.   
  
"You're going to try to talk to her? I better come too." Barbara moved the wheelchair to follow him but Bruce stopped her.   
  
"No I need to do this on my own." He told her firmly.   
  
For a split second Barbara saw the old Bruce resurface from beneath the layers of pain and grief that had consumed him in the past seven years. She nodded. "All right then. She lives in the white apartment - you can't miss it all the others are red and her apartment number is 314."   
  
"Thanks again." Bruce moved toward the door.   
  
"Bruce?" Barbara said softly. She saw him halt mistep. "Good luck. Helena... she might not be in the best of moods. I'm just going to warn you."   
  
A small grin appeared on Bruce's face for a brief fleeting instant. "I'll consider myself warned then." He closed the door behind him.   
  


~~~ 

  
  
As she opened the door Helena had expected to see Barbara and her father. She instead saw no sign of Barbara and only her father.   
  
Upon seeing him she started to close the door but Bruce stopped her with one of his hands.   
  
"What do you want?" Helena asked shrewishly.   
  
"To talk." Bruce replied simply.   
  
"How wonderful for you." Helena said sarcastically. "I don't want to."   
  
"Helena." Bruce said softly almost pleadingly.   
  
"Yeah, that's my name, glad you know it. Amazing, considering you didn't even know you had a daughter."   
  
Bruce refused to let it show how much her words hurt him. "Helena I *am* going to come insdie and talk to you." He shoved against the door forcing Helena to take a step back and allow him inside.   
  
"You know I could call the police and get you arrested for breaking and entering." She grumbled but made no move to force him out.   
  
"Would you now?" Bruce asked, he seemed amused and Helena felt her hackles raise.   
  
"Yes." She snapped and stalked over to the phone and picked it up. She didn't dial the numbers and just stood there for a moment holding it in he hand. With an aggravated snarl she slammed it down on the holder causing it to jump.   
  
"Say what you've come to say and *leave*." Helena put extra emphasis on the last word and stood in front of him her arms folded across her chest and her back rigid straight.   
  
Bruce didn't reply at first and sat down in one fo Helena's mohogany chairs ( her *favorite* chair Helena noted peevishly), and just sat there for a minute or two just watching her and trying to sort out his thoughts.   
  
She was his daughter. He thought half in awe.   
  
It struck him how much she acted like him, at least how he had acted somewhat when he had been her age. She looked like him also, she had his coloring the black hair and ice blue eyes. But at the she had a lot of her mother's mannerisms and expressions. Helena was a mix of them both.   
  
Him and Selena.   
  
Barbara had told him that she was twenty three. That meant she had been what? Fifteen? Almost sixteen - when her mother - Selena - had been killed and right in front of her too.   
  
Twenty three years of her life he had missed out on. Though he understood why Selena had hid Helena, from him, he still felt slightly angry. Helena as the daughter of Catwoman and Batman would have been made a target. A tool to be used against them both.   
  
"Selena - your mother - never told me about you. If I *had* known about you this would have been different."   
  
"My mother never told me alot of things. That my father was Bruce Wayne . That my father was Batman." Theer was bitterness there and also a lot of sadness too Bruce noted. She had loved her mother very much.   
  
Out of the corner of his eye he saw a pictureframe ontop of a small table near the center of the room they were in. The picture showed a younger Helena and Selena. In the photo Helena looked to be about thirteen, her black hair was longer than it was now and was french braided. Helena and Selena were both eating ice cream and laughing. Helena had chocolate and Selena had vanilla. It was a close shot so their faces filled up the photo.   
  
"I loved her Helena." Bruce said tearing his gaze away from the picture and back onto Helena.   
  
"And because of you she's dead." The change in Helena's mood was swift and sudden. Quickly destroying the slight connection they had made. "Because of you my mother's dead." Helena repeated. "Because of you she was killed by the Joker's lackey. Because of you there was *nothing* *I* could have done to save her!"   
  
Helena blamed him, Bruce thought sadly. But at the same time she also blamed herself. He didn't know which was worse.   
  
"Helena there was nothing you could have done." Bruce ment the words to be consoling.   
  
"Oh but there was plenty you could have done!" She threw back viciously. "Get out of my apartment. Get out! Get out! Get out!" Her voice rose almost hysterically. "GET OUT!" Seeing he made no move Helena snatched the first thing she could get her hands on - the photograph of herself and her mother - and flung it at him. It missed him and landed on the floor the glass shattering.   
  
Slowly as if in a dream Bruce obeyed. As he closed the door behind him he thought he heard the sound of crying, but he could not have been sure.   
  



	5. Return to Heartache 5

Get rid of this ad!

• Get Four DVDs for $.49 each. Join now.

• Get your own web address!

• Get your own webiste on Angelfire

• Go meet somebody!

Sorry Minna-san for the delay. RL decided to poke it's nose in. FF.net was being a brat among other annoying things ::rolls eyes:: Anyway here ya go!   
  
  
  
Helena fought the urge to throw something else only this time at the door.   
  
Looking down at the broken glass and picture frame, she barely held back a sob. Usually when Helena was pissed off enough to throw things, she kept things that held value to her out of her reach.   
  
The picture of her and her mother counted as something that held value. Silently Helena dropped to her knees and picked up the picture frame. The picture frame had landed face down with the glass hitting the floor and shattering upon impact.   
  
Absentmindedly she placed the picture frame back onto the low table from where she had picked it up and flung it at Bruce.   
  
Carefully she picked up the shards of glass and placed them into a neat pile to be vacuumed up later. One particularly jagged piece cut her finger. With a hiss that was more of agitation and sadness than pain she placed the cut finger into her mouth. Helena held it there until the bleeding ceased. She finished piling up the glass pieces and gingerly picked up the picture from where it lay on the floor.   
  
Tears filled her eyes and she could no longer hold then back. "Mom." Helena choked out. Her voice was ragged and pained sounding. "Why did you never let me protect you? You were always protecting me - making sure I was safe; but you never let me protect you!" She cradled the picture against her chest crying. "He should have made sure you were safe. He should have *known* what the Joker would do!" There was no question about the "He" Helena was referring to.   
  
"You died and Bab's got crippled. There was nothing I could have done for Babs. There was nothing I could have done for you - I wasn't strong enough then. But there was plenty he could have done to save you - to save you *and* Barbara. But he didn't. He got the Joker locked up and fled the city like a coward!" Her voice had stopped being accusing and was now only sad. Helena's tears fell onto the photograph and slid off of it, falling onto the floor soundlessly.   
  
She wiped a rough hand over her eyes to dash away the not yet fallen tears and got to her feet. Helena then turned around and made a move to go into the kitchen for the vacuum when the doorbell rang.   
  
Helena paused midstep and threw a furious glance at the door. "What is this? 'Visit Helena night'?" She looked down at the photo held in her hand and realized she was clenching her fist so tight that the photograph was wrinkling. She loosened her grip and tried to smooth out the creases.   
  
With a soft sight she went over to the door and opened it.   
  
Who she saw standing in front of her was probably the last person she would have expected to see.   
  
"Dick."   
  
Dick Grayson grinned back at her. "Hey Lena. Can I come in?"   
  
"I don't care." Helena replied with an indifferent shrug but she moved away from the door.   
  
"I'll take that as a 'yes' then." Dick murmured. "Excuse me for saying so but you look like Hell warmed over."   
  
"Yeah kinda goes along with how I feel right now." Helena answered shortly. She caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror that she had hung on the wall and grimaced at the sight of herself.   
  
Her short spiky black hair was a mess. As she ran a hand through it her fingers snagged on a knot. Helena's ice blue eyes were red rimmed and puffy, her eyes themselves looked clouded and dull.   
  
Helena's face was pale except for two bright spots of color on her cheeks and her red nose. "I look like Rudolph the red nosed reindeer." She complained sourly.   
  
"Go take a shower."   
  
"Don't tell me what to do!" She snapped back.   
  
"I wasn't telling you what to do." Dick replied calmly unruffled by her outburst.   
  
"Sorry for biting your head off. I didn't mean to." Helena said quietly.   
  
"It's okay." Dick shrugged it off.   
  
"I'll take a shower. Make yourself at home. There's food in the fridge if you're hungry and I just got some coffee from the store so go-ahead and make some coffee if you want some."   
  
Dick nodded wordlessly. Out of the corner of his eye he noticed a pile of glass on the ground but chose not to comment on it.   
  
Helena disappeared to go take a shower and returned around a half an hour later. Her short black hair was pushed back a headband and she wore a black tank top and gray sweatpants. Her feet were bare.   
  
She looked much better already her eyes had lost their glassy look and color had returned to her face. She looked calm and composed. A small black cat followed her into the room and regarded Dick solemnly with bright green eyes.   
  
"New cat?" He inquired.   
  
Helena glanced down at the cat. "Yeah his name's Neko."   
  
Dick nodded, "do you want anything to drink? I'm just about to make some coffee.   
  
Helena shook her head declining Dick's invitation politely. Together they walked into her kitchen Neko trailing in their wake. Dick turned on the coffee machine; he had been at Helena's apartment enough to know his way around.   
  
Helena took a glass out of her cupboard as well as a bottle of vodka. She poured the vodka into the glass and added ice before sitting down at the table.   
  
Dick sat down opposite to her a mug of freshly made coffee in his hands. He watched as she gulped down the vodka. "Trying to make yourself drunk?" He asked lightly.   
  
"Whatever works. Why are you here?"   
  
"Heard he was back."   
  
"News travels fast; did Barbara tell you?"   
  
"I've got my own ways of finding out information that don't involve Barbara. So how do you feel about him being back?"   
  
"Don't try to psychoanalyze me. I've got a shrink already trying to do that - and you really want to know how I feel? I feel like he should go jump off a bridge for all I care."   
  
"Not happy then eh?"   
  
"What gives it away?" She titled her glass slightly searching for any remaining vodka that she might have not drank. Finding none she set the glass down with a sight.   
  
"I regard you as my father more than him." She said truthfully.   
  
It was true. When Barbara had taken Helena in after her mother's murder and her father's departure from New Gotham Dick had come to the city from time to time to give advice and to help train Helena when Barbara's physical limitations became a problem and did not permit her to train Helena in a certain area.   
  
Dick had even given her the crimefighting name 'Huntress' after going out with her on her first night of fighting crime. As he watched her fighting a would-be mugger he had remarked that she was like a huntress stalking her prey and the name had stuck and had become Huntress.   
  
Dick smiled grimly. "Due to the circumstances I don't blame you."   
  
"Yeah but I blame him."   
  
"Helena you didn't see him after your mother's murder and Barbara's crippling. I came to New Gotham as soon as I had heard what had happened. The Joker had been put away by that time and I found your father in the Manor..." He closed his eyes. "Bruce looked mad and acted mad. It took me hours to calm him down and I have the bruises to prove it." Helena's mouth quirked slightly.   
  
"Don't think he's a heartless coward Lena. He went through hell. So did you - but unlike you - you whom something when something happens you beat up everyone within twenty feet and then you cling to someone even tighter than before. Bruce is different. He withdraws and shuts out everyone in his grief. That's why he left Helena. Not because he was a coward but because he was so wrapped up in grief that he needed to getaway."   
  
"Helena didn't say anything, her gaze was locked on the glass she held in her hand. "You know him well huh?"   
  
"He was the closest thing I ever had to a father. I love and respect and admire him, but I admit I don't think anyone really knows him. He keeps himself too locked up for anyone to truly know him."   
  
Dick sipped his coffee watching Helena intently. She looked so young. Her eyes though said differently. "You'll get through this Lena."   
  
When Helena looked up to respond Dick was gone.   
  



End file.
